


Washing Machine Heart

by TheMightyChipmunk



Series: Reddie Meet-Cute AUs [12]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-11-02 11:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20730581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyChipmunk/pseuds/TheMightyChipmunk
Summary: “Sorry, um, what’s up?”“I…” The guy looked to be thinking hard for a second, before turning to glare at Richie, “You aren’t allowed to make fun of me.” He said, and he said it with such conviction that Richie just straight up agreed. Even though usually… he’d know that wasn’t a realistic expectation.“Okaaaay.”“I’m serious here, I know this is embarrassing and I’m a stranger but I need you to fucking promise.” He insisted, moving forward slightly in his intensity and Richie almost moved back, hands raised.“Okay, okay, I promise. What is it?” Richie asked. How was he already whipped when he’d known this guy for two seconds?“Ineedyoutoteachmetousealaundrymachine.”***Or, the one where Richie and Eddie meet at a laundromat.





	Washing Machine Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This was 100% just me needing a reason to write adult Reddie bickering. Ransone's Eddie had such an angry, chaotic energy, I needed to write a little of that. 
> 
> Hope you like it! It has been a while lol (I actually just noticed that i posted my last meet cute EXACTLY a year before I posted this one like WHOA HOW CRAZY)

Richie and Mike had been roommates for almost three years now. It was a good thing; Mike was unendingly good for Richie. He was kind, sincere, hard-working, and consistently forgiving. It bolstered Richie in the best of ways. And he liked to think he was good for Mike, too. Mike had a habit of keeping to himself, hyper-fixating on one thing, like his studies or his work or refurbishing the apartment. Richie was good at pulling him out of his own head, reminding him that there was more to being alive than just being useful.

They were good together. _But_ they were also very different and their friendship did have its ups and downs. They would go from months of wanting to be with no one but each other to weeks where their tempers with each other were shorter than with anyone or anything else. It was a cycle, a repetitive and reliable cycle that they both grew to accept. When it happened in high school, Richie used to take it really personally; his insecurities were worse back then. But now he just sort of knew for sure that they’d always drift but more importantly, they’d always find their way back to each other.

And usually, the thing that brought them back together was laundry. That sounds incredibly boring, but it was true. Whether they were in the close part of their cycle or the part where they could barely stand the sound of the other one’s voice, they always did their laundry together. When they’d first moved to LA, they never lived in a place with a built-in washer and dryer (they weren’t goddamn millionaires), so they always went to the closest laundromat together, lugging bags over their shoulders and catching up as they walked. Even when both of them became a little more comfortable, even when Richie’s career actually became respectable, they still found their way to the closest laundromat instead of using the bougie machines tucked in the corner of their apartment.

It was tradition. Stupid, probably, but whatever.

This week, they were about two days into segueing _out_ of an I-look-at-you-and-I-don’t-see-my-best-friend-I-can-only-see-the-size-of-the-pores-on-your-huge-nose phase. Mike was finally able to laugh at Richie’s jokes again and Richie finally wasn’t endlessly exhausted by how _good_ Mike was.

(TBH, it was mainly Richie’s fault that they were in this slump at all; he had really procrastinated on his last writing deadline and it did NOTHING for his personality the last week. But, Mike, after letting Richie sleep and veg for two days post-deadline, very graciously extended an olive branch and demanded that Richie get the fuck off the couch and come with him to wash all his _disgusting_ clothes. He said it more or less exactly like that, and the rudeness of the phrasing was exactly what Richie needed to hear to make him smile again.)

So, the two of them were at their laundromat, Mike loading the last washer and Richie leaning against a machine next to him, waiting for him to finish. Richie liked their laundromat. He was sure at _some_ time it got busy, but he and Mike always went when it was slow, 3AM when everyone else was sleeping or 12PM when everyone else was working. They both had jobs that allowed them to dictate their own schedule, Richie being a comedy writer and Mike owning his own business where he built furniture in a studio downtown. Nonetheless, there were always some interesting characters present with them, making interesting subjects to watch.

Not today, though. It was pretty much completely empty, except for him and Mike and two guys who were a couple machines over from them. No one interesting to look at, so Richie’s mind was left to wander.

“I wonder what it would be like to fuck on a washing machine.” Richie said aloud and Mike choked out a laugh as he slid his card through the machine’s reader.

“What the fuck?” Mike asked, “Why would that be any different than fucking on any other piece of furniture?” Richie looked at him like he was crazy and pointed to the spinning machine.

“It’s moving.” Richie stated, obviously. Mike laughed and turned around, leaning against the machine that was chugging along.

“Any furniture is moving if you’re fucking right, Rich.” Mike said with a few pumps of his hips to demonstrate. Richie laughed loudly, bent over the machine next to him.

“Jesus, Mikey, I missed you.” Richie smiled and shook his head and then looked back at the machine, considering. “Well then maybe it would be better for masturbation? Just some added stimulation. Like a giant vibrator, you know?” Mike still didn’t look convinced.

“Ehh… your dick would have to be like right up against the metal. Maybe… but it would probably be better for people with vaginas.” Mike reasoned with a shrug, pulling his phone out of his pocket as if to move on, as if the discussion was over.

“What?” Richie pressed, “What would a vagina get out of that a dick wouldn’t?”

“The vibration would stimulate a clit more effectively, in my opinion,” Mike gestured with his hand as if it was self-explanatory, “You know, based on size, location, and just generally how it makes you feel.”

Richie stared at him for a moment before breaking out laughing again.

“Fuck, Mikey-boy, I didn’t know you were such a clit expert.” Richie teased and Mike just smiled.

“I like to use the word connoisseur.”

“Oh, of course. _Clit Connoisseur_. Damn, that sounds like you just found your porn name, Mike.” Richie joked and Mike clapped once as he bent over laughing. “Maybe it could just be something to like, rock your body, you know? Remind you of better times, like getting railed in your living room or-”

“You guys know that like… other people are here, right?” A voice cut in, and Richie and Mike turned simultaneously to the aforementioned two guys a few machines over. One had an eyebrow raised, judging them hard, and the other had one hand over his mouth to keep him from laughing.

“Oh, um, I’m so sorr-”

“_Other people_,” the guy continued, cutting Mike’s apology off, “who are very interested in what it takes to gain the title of Clit Connoisseur. As a bisexual man, I do think adding the title to my business card will help me tremendously.”

“Oh my fucking God, Bill.” The boy next to him said, cracking up laughing and pushing him in the side. The guy, Bill, who Richie now noticed was actually extremely attractive, since he was no longer afraid that he was going to be bitched out, smiled slowly and laughed once. “Seriously though, this is a public space. Maybe you guys should watch your conversations a little more closely.”

“That really doesn’t sound like me.” Richie admitted with a casual shrug. Bill laughed and rolled his eyes. He turned back towards his laundry, seemingly ending the conversation, and Mike jolted forwards with an outstretched hand.

“Um, I’m Mike. Mike Hanlon. It’s nice to meet you.” He said, somehow still seeming smooth despite also seeming pretty desperate. It was a good balance, actually. Bill smiled and stared at his hand for a moment, pleased, before taking it in his own.

“Bill Denbrough. This is my little brother, Georgie.” Bill said, gesturing to the grinning boy next to him.

“And I’m-”

“Richie Tozier, yeah?” Georgie cut in, excited. Mike raised his eyebrows and turned to Richie, impressed in a way that he always was when Richie got recognized.

“Oh, do we know each other?” Richie asked, just to be an asshole. Georgie blushed and shrugged.

“I’ve watched your Netflix comedy special like… ten times, man. You’re so fucking funny.” He said, sounding so sincere Richie couldn’t even tease him.

“Oh, thanks man. I’m glad you liked it.” Richie said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You’re a comedian?” Bill asked.

“Only by trade.” Richie nodded and Bill raised one eyebrow, judging again. It was a good face. He must’ve practiced.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means he doesn’t make anyone laugh without being paid cold hard cash.” Mike deadpanned, stealing the response right from Richie’s mouth. They really had been friends for too long.

“Money me. Money now. Me a money needing a lot now.” Richie said, making Mike groan.

“He’s been making this joke for fucking years.”

“Yes I have and that being so, Mikey-boy owes me about… three million dollars in back-logged fees.” Richie said seriously and Mike just laughed once, loud and in Richie’s face.

“That’s another $300.” Richie teased.

“You cannot _possibly_ be worth that much.” Bill laughed and Georgie spluttered.

“Bill, he wrote for-”

“Eh, we don’t have to talk about me! Why do you need my credentials to know how funny how am, Billy? You don’t just get it from my joie de vivre? You’re telling me you wouldn’t pay three million dollars for ten years of friendship with me?” Richie asked, cutting Georgie off because he really didn’t want to hear the spiel. He played confident and cocky well but GOD, he hated hearing about his “accomplishments”.

“Ten years? Wow, that’s a long time.” Bill said, slightly surprised. Mike nodded and blew out a big breath, dramatic as fuck.

“Yeah, and he’s really gotten _less_ funny over time, if you can believe it.” He teased and Bill barked out a laugh.

“I can’t imagine how funny he must have been in kindergarten.” Bill said, making Mike laugh and Richie lifted a finger.

“Why don’t you guys go fuck yourselves, yeah?” Richie bitched, to a response of unaffected laughter from Bill Denbrough.

“Is that the kind of witty shit you got in your special?” Bill asked and Richie shrugged, because honestly, probably.

“More or less.” Georgie replied pleasantly and Bill hummed in consideration.

“I might check it out.”

“We could watch it together some time, maybe.” Mike cut-in, and Richie almost whistled because _damn, Mike_. Bill smiled and turned more completely toward Mike, leaning against the washing machines.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, it could be fun.” Mike smiled and okay, Richie always knew Mike was good at flirting. In the back of his mind, he knew his best friend had game but like, seeing it? Right in front of his salad? That was a whole different ballpark. The casual touching and the smiling and the laughing and WOW.

Richie turned to Georgie, tuning Mike and Bill out in exchange for miming fake kissing motions and making quiet-fake gagging noises at how cute it was. Georgie laughed and mimed along with him before his phone rang loudly, pulling Mike and Bill out of their conversation.

“Oh, I gotta take this,” Georgie said, and without looking up from the screen, he added cheerfully, “Try not to fuck on the washing machines.” 

“Jesus, Georgie.” Bill groaned as Mike grinned smugly and Riche laughed, surprised.

“Wait, no, don’t listen to him. And don’t let my presence deter you. Please, go ahead,” Richie insisted, “Choose one that’s on, though, let me know how it feels. It would clear some stuff up for me. I don’t mind watching.”

“Oh _please_, you should be so lucky.” Bill teased and Richie laughed once, loud and on purpose.

“Sorry Billy-Boy, you're hot but you're not...” Richie turned his head when he heard the bells above the front door jingle, indicating someone had entered and funnily enough, it happened to be the cutest boy in the whole world, “... Exactly my type.” Richie finished in a whisper, because _fuck. _That was a cute boy. He had fluffy brown hair that was just long enough to be curling, wide brown eyes that scanned the area with trepidation, _dimples_ that were visible on his cheeks even without smiling just yet, and although he was of small stature, he was _thick as-_

And okay. He was being creepy. He knew he was being creepy. It was 2019 and he knew he wasn’t allowed to objectify without permission. He needed to stop staring. He resolved to stop staring in about 8 or so seconds, so he watched the boy take a deep breath in, fix his eyes on the washing machines in the back, set his shoulders and resolutely move forward. Only to bump right into Georgie, who was walking back in after finishing his phone call.

“Oh, sorry dude.” Georgie said with a wide grin, helping to pick up the clothes he made the guy drop. 

“No problem,” he grumbled, “you just ruined my confident entrance, but I'll get over it.” He whispered, making both Georgie and Richie look confused, but the boy ignored it, walking forwards with slightly more hunched shoulders this time. 

Georgie just shrugged and started walking over to them, so Richie turned back around to face his friends. _Both _of whom were staring at Richie, Mike’s eyebrows raised high and Bill’s lips set firmly in a smirk.

“What the fuck is that look for?” Richie snapped, defenses rising. He knew what the fuck those looks were for.

“That was some intense fucking staring, Rich.” Mike teased and Richie rolled his eyes. 

“Well I guess I was just feeling left out. Y'all found someone in the Laundromat who you wanted desperately to bone, I wanted someone like that too.” Richie explained with a shrug, and he expected Mike to blush and brush it off, but instead he grinned at Bill and shrugged. 

“Guess that's fair.” He said and the two of them shared a little moment that made Richie and the newly-arrived George fake-gag again, out-loud this time. 

“Can we just go listen to music now? This sexual tension is exhausting,” Richie said, not waiting for an answer and moving towards the benches in the front.

“You wanna come, Bill? It’s kind of our tradition. While we wait for clothes, we play each other our new music. But the thing is, we each have one of our own earphones in and one of the other person’s, so we listen to two songs at the same time.” Mike explained. Richie collapsed on the bench and sprawled out obnoxiously.

“Um, that sounds kind of dumb.” Bill admitted and Mike laughed, nodding.

“I promise, it sounds cool. Every once in a while, you get two songs that blend really well and it makes it all worth it.”

“Sometimes you just get a headache though,” Richie admitted with a shrug, “You wanna join too Georgie?” Richie asked and Georgie scoffed happily, somehow.

“Yeah right. I’m not letting any of you put my hard-earned Air Pods in your disgusting ears.” Georgie said, sprawling out on his own bench. Richie laughed in offense and Bill smacked Georgie on the back of the head as he walked by him.

“You fucking stole those from you ex, Georgie. Don’t even front.” Bill pointed out and Richie _oooooh_ed dramatically. Georgie didn’t even look apologetic.

“She was just going to lose them anyway. And remember when she made me go to _two_ back-to-back shows for her improv group? I earned these fucking headphones.” Georgie argued as he slipped them in, raising one finger to Bill. Mike shook his head and laughed.

“Your loss, my man.” Mike said. Then he pushed Richie’s legs firmly off the bench so that he and Bill could sit next to him. They exchanged headphones, but sharing required a more triangular shape and so, of course, Richie was the one forced to sit on the floor.

Once they got the music going, Richie barely even had to fight to ignore Bill and Mike flirting. It was nice. Bill had good taste in music, surprisingly. He didn’t really know any of the bands’ names, but they had a mellow feel to them. He was getting into it when-

“Um, excuse me?” Richie heard, as he felt someone tapping his shoulder. He pulled out one earphone and looked up to see the boy from earlier, the one who walked in and looked too cute and too lost. Richie scrambled to standing, only to be immediately tugged back.

“Ow, ow, ow.” Richie said, bending over and tugging out the earphones still lodged in his ears. Bill glared at him as he was tugged over too. The new guy looked at him like he was about to laugh, but definitely _at_ him. Not with him. Richie was a comedian, he knew the difference, “Sorry, um, what’s up?”

“I…” The guy looked to be thinking hard for a second, before turning to glare at Richie, “You aren’t allowed to make fun of me.” He said, and he said it with such conviction that Richie just straight up agreed. Even though usually… he’d know that wasn’t a realistic expectation.

“Okaaaay.”

“I’m serious here, I know this is embarrassing and I’m a stranger but I need you to fucking promise.” He insisted, moving forward slightly in his intensity and Richie almost moved back, hands raised.

“Okay, okay, I promise. What is it?” Richie asked. How was he already whipped when he’d known this guy for two seconds?

“Ineedyoutoteachmetousealaundrymachine.” He muttered, completely under his breath. Richie took a moment to replay it in his head, and he was sure he misheard.

“What is it?” he asked again and the boy huffed loudly, rolling his eyes.

“I need you to teach me to use a laundry machine!” he almost yelled. Richie thought about that for one moment before responding.

“You… you don’t know how to do laundry?” Richie asked, genuinely confused as he looked around and double checked his surroundings.

“No, I don’t. Is that a problem?” the boy asked, crossing his arms and keeping his shoulders unnaturally straight which, really, just served to remind Richie how much shorter he was. It was cute. Cute cute cute.

“Umm…” Richie mused, “We’re at a laundromat.”

“Yes, I fucking know that, thank you very much. We are at a laundromat and I don’t know how to do laundry, okay? The irony is perfect, now will you please just fucking teach me, or should I just leave, in complete shame?” The guy asked, the only thing belying the desperate nature of his words was the complete passion with which he spit them out.

“Well… okay yeah. I mean… but, I just need to ask… you weren’t… born this way, were you?” Richie asked quietly, still caught up on the premise of the conversation. The boy stared at him for a long moment.

“Born not knowing how to do laundry?” he whispered, voice gradually getting louder, so that by the end he was yelling, “Like every other human being in the _world_? Yes, I fucking was now, _okay_, wait, is this you making fun of me? Because, I swear, I asked for ONE THING AND-”

“No! No, I’m sorry. I’ll stop. You’ll get the full-sincere-Richie package, from here on out.” Richie insisted, gently grabbing the guy’s arm to keep him from walking away. He let go quickly though, when the guy looked down suspiciously at the hand. “I can be very helpful. Promise.”

The boy stared at him for another long, discerning moment before he sighed.

“Okay. For some reason, I am choosing to trust you. So. Thank you.” He turned around to walk towards the washing machines. Richie followed immediately and then almost bumped into the guy’s back when he stopped abruptly. When he turned around, he looked surprised at how close he was to Richie, craning his neck to look up to him, a light blush on his cheeks. “Um, you said your name was Richie?”

“Yup. Richie Tozier.” He said, extending his hand.

“Eddie. My name is Eddie.” He replied, taking Richie’s hand in his own for one quick, charged moment, before turning back around and power walking to the back of the store. Richie kept up easily. His legs had to be at least five inches longer than this guy’s.

“So, can I ask you a question?” Richie asked, pointedly staring at the back of the guy’s head and no lower. Because he was a gentleman.

“I guess.” Eddie allowed. Richie rolled his eyes at how prickly he was. So much animosity in such a compact body.

Richie took a second to think of what to ask, because he had a few questions and he wasn’t sure which ones would get him answers, and which ones would get him punched. For example:

_Why the fuck did you never learn how to do laundry? Were you a prince? Are you a lost prince?_

That one lacked tact, in Richie’s point of view.

_Do you not like, have a phone? To google how to work a laundry machine?_

That one could also be interpreted as rude as fuck so.

_Are you gay? Do you like dick, aka me?_

A little unromantic.

_Out of all the gin joints in the world, in all the towns, he walked into mine_.

Hey, that’s kind of good.

“Out of all the laundromats in the world, in all the towns, you walked into mine.” Richie said, in a not-so-accurate Humphrey Bogart impression. Eddie looked over at him slowly, face confused.

“That’s… not a question.” Eddie pointed out and fuck he was so cute. He was so cute, what was Richie supposed to do with that? With the fucking crease in his brow as he tried to figure Richie out, the way he pursed his lips, the tilt to his head? What the fuck?

“Out of all the laundromats in the world, in all the towns, you walked into mine?” Richie amended, stressing the inflection at the end. Eddie’s lips twitched, almost smiling.

“Are you flirting with me?” Eddie asked, point-blank. Richie’s mouth opened and closed once as he thought of what to say.

“Um. Yes. Is that okay with you?” If it wasn’t, of course, Richie would stop, but… he really hoped it was okay. Eddie stared at him for one long moment and Richie waited anxiously. Suddenly, he turned away, looking solely at the washing machine in front of them, giving Richie’s soul a momentary break.

“What you should’ve said was, _Eddie, can I **tell** you something?_ Then you wouldn’t have needed to change it to a question.” Eddie said and Richie chuckled a little.

“Yeah, that’s a better lead in. Much more seamless. So is that a yes?” Richie asked again and Eddie looked at the ground, smiling widely and shaking his head.

“Maybe I should be the one writing your jokes then.” Eddie continued, ignoring Richie’s question. Despite the evasion, Richie laughed once.

“Oh? You’ve seen my special then?” Richie asked, surprised. Eddie shook his head and waved his hand.

“Nah, I’ve seen my roommate watching it though.” He admitted and Richie clucked his tongue once.

“Then you knew who I was, when you came over before?” Eddie shook his head a few times.

“Oh, _no_. I didn’t realize until you said your name, then I put two and two together,” Eddie said, then he turned to face Richie again, looking at him closely, “You look different in person.” Richie snorted.

“Yeah, without the team of hair and make-up professionals to prep me? That does do bad things to a man’s chances, Eds, my man.” Richie shrugged, running a hand through he his messy curls.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, asshole.” Eddie snapped, pissed off Richie thought he insulted him. Which seemed backwards, “I just said different. Not worse.” He emphasized and Richie grinned.

“_Well then_, so you’re saying I look _better_?” he asked, leaning against the machines in front of them and shifting slightly closer to Eddie, “In what way? Can you please give me specific but also elaborate examples? Just out of professional curiosity.” Eddie smiled and rolled his eyes, looking in the opposite direction of where Richie was staring.

“If you’re fishing for compliments, Rich, you’re in the wrong lake.” Eddie insisted and this time Richie genuinely laughed loud.

“Fuck, Eds, you’re right. Looks like all these compliments swam south for the winter.” Richie reasoned. Eddie shook his head and bit his lip, resisting the laughter.

“Fish don’t fucking do that, Richie.”

“They don’t?”

“That’s birds, you dipshit.”

“Oh fuck, yeah you’re right again.”

Eddie turned to him, shoulders lifting in silent laughter and they smiled at each other for a lengthy moment before Eddie pushed him once.

“Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me laundry? Can we fucking do that now?” he asked and Richie sighed loudly, nodding.

“Fine, fine. Let me make myself useful.” Richie admitted.

“Finally.” Eddie teased, hip-checking Richie so he could move past him, towards where he’d sorted his clothes and-

“Um, so, this is your laundry?” Richie asked and Eddie nodded once, before looking at Richie, confused.

“Yes? Is something wrong?” Eddie asked. Richie looked down at the different piles of clothes on the table next to the machines and thought of what to say, “Stan, my friend, he mentioned that I should sort them in to colors and whites. So I did that.”

And he did. He had a pile of navy clothes and a pile of black clothes and a pile of green clothes, a pile of red clothes, white clothes, and the whole fucking rainbow on the table. It was adorable. And just…

“You have a lot of pink clothes.” Richie stated. The pink pile was definitely bigger than all the others. 

“Oh… yes, I do. It’s my favorite color.” Eddie explained and Richie just nodded.

“I bet it looks good on you.”

“It does.” Eddie replied, looking at Richie like he was crazy, as he continued to stare at the pink clothes. Richie coughed once and then took a deep breath in.

“Okay, so the thing about laundry is: the less cycles, the better. I usually just do a load of delicates and a load of everything not-delicate, but if you’re someone who is particularly anal-”

“I am,” Eddie cut-in, unabashed. Richie smiled and put his hands up in surrender.

“Fair enough,” he allowed, “then I would suggest four loads total: darks, lights, whites, and delicates. Oh and towels. So five total. But, if you separate them into this many specific colors, you’re just wasting water. And money. And soap.” Eddie nodded in understanding and went to re-arrange his piles.

“So, lights and darks?”

“Yeah, luckily you have your color spectrum laid out in order, so it’ll be easier to merge the piles.” Richie ribbed gently and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Go fuck yourself.” He muttered.

“Fuck me yourself, coward.” Richie whispered right back, and Eddie’s eyes bugged out once, before laughing gently.

“Maybe you do write some good lines.” He allowed before focusing on re-sorting his clothes, pulling out whatever he deemed delicate. Richie watched and helped out here and there, but it was a quick process.

“Okay, now, most machines, present-day ones, are way easier. They’re marked by settings, so if you have a load of lights or darks, you would just put it on the normal cycle. Delicates, the delicate cycle. It’s easier. Programmed. These machines, though, are from the 80’s or something, so they like to clown you.”

“Of course they do.” Eddie murmured to himself and Richie really wanted to touch him, hold his hand or or kiss his forehead or sling an arm around his shoulders. He didn’t, but fuck he wanted to.

“Um, so, you can wash anything and everything in cold water. It won’t damage anything. So when in doubt, make it tap cold. But, whites you should wash in hot water. Delicates _always_ cold, or they’ll shrink. Jeans you could do in warm, but like, I don’t think I ever do. I don’t wash them on their own so.”

The rest of the process, helping Eddie fill the washing machines and get started, was just _full_ of unnecessary intricate rituals, specifically meant to touch the skin of One Man. Richie was being obvious, standing a little too close, brushing hands too often, eyes lingering too long.

It was hot, honestly. Whoever said doing laundry wasn’t sexy, wasn’t living right.

Eddie didn’t really seem to notice though, he was so focused on doing everything right. It was so goddamn sweet, Richie wanted to get down on one knee. Or two knees, he wasn’t picky.

“So, now we wait?” Eddie asked when they were done with everything, eyeing the timers on each machine and Richie nodded.

“Now we wait.” Richie repeated. They stood there in silence for a moment.

“Well, you can go back to your friends now, if you wanna?” Eddie offered with a small smile, staring Richie straight in the eye, like he was expecting Richie to bolt.

“I probably should,” Richie admitted, not liking the idea of abandoning Mike, even for an exceptionally cute boy. Eddie nodded, but before he could say anything, Richie added, “I’d like if you came too, though.”

“Really?” Eddie asked, tentatively. Richie grinned and nodded.

“Of course. I’m having fun with you.”

“Oh,” Eddie said, small and pleased, “Me too.”

“You’re kind of a spitfire, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie teased. Eddie scoffed loudly.

“Oh God. Is that a compliment? Also, don’t call me that. I don’t even really like spaghetti.” Eddie said and Richie turned around to walk backwards as they headed back to the front of the laundromat.

“You don’t like _spaghetti_?” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m gluten intolerant, asshole.”

“_Pssshh_. There are gluten-free noodles. No biggie.”

“So you’ll call me Eddie Gluten-Free Spaghetti?”

“Works for me.”

“It’s a bit of a mouthful.”

“I can handle a mouthful, baby.”

“God you’re disgusting,” Eddie cringed, and then he stopped walking and pointed towards the benches, “Oh um, are those your friends?” he asked. Richie turned around to look where he pointed. First. he saw Georgie laying upside down across one bench, head hanging off the edge and phone held right in front of his face. He looked to be playing some sort of game.

_Bill and Mike_, however, were in their own little world. They both had their headphones still in, similar to how Richie left them, and they were turned to face each other in their seat, smiling and laughing at something on Mike’s phone. It was fucking cute.

“Shit. I don’t really wanna break that up.” Richie admitted. Mike hadn’t looked that smitten with someone in… no, he couldn’t remember Mike ever taking a shine to someone this well, especially not this fast after meeting them.

“Yeah, that looks intimate.” Eddie admitted.

“Well, I guess it’s back to the washers.” Richie shrugged, turning to head back the way they came. Eddie put a hand on his shoulder and pointed to Georgie.

“You don’t wanna invite him?” he asked and Richie shook his head.

“Nah. I don’t really know him. Only one of the moon-faced boys is mine. The other two we just met today.” Richie explained, making Eddie laugh.

“Wow. Is this a laundromat or a singles party?” Eddie asked as they started walking. Richie looked at him with a sly smile.

“What does that mean, Gluten-Free Spaghetti Man? You meet a single that you like?” he asked. Eddie rolled his eyes and shoved Richie on the shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up.” Eddie said and he stopped walking by his washing machine, “Um, where are we going? What do we do while we wait?” he asked and Richie pulled his headphones out of his pocket.

“Um, Mike and I have a tradition of exchanging music, but… it requires two sets of headphones. And two sets of _phones_, which actually, I’m assuming you don’t have?” Richie asked, tentatively. Eddie’s brows furrowed.

“Why do you assume that?” Eddie asked brusquely.

“I mean, come on man,” Richie said, unable to think of a nice way to say it so just saying it, “I’m pretty sure if you had access to a phone right now, you would’ve used that to google how a laundry machine works. You wouldn’t have had to ask a complete stranger at 11 o’clock at night.” Richie explained. Eddie sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m kind of… in-between phones right now. I’m kind of… in-between everything right now.” He admitted snippily. Richie leaned against the machines, crossing his arms in front of him.

“Can I ask what happened?”

“Looks like you just did,” Eddie huffed. Richie just stared and eventually Eddie relented, “I got divorced.”

“Divorced?” Richie asked, shell-shocked.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket, “She kicked me out when I ended it and basically fucked me in the proceedings. Took _everything_. My friends took me in, and they’ve been really great, but… I’m trying to make it on my own now. And it’s hard. And expensive, so.” He shrugged, obviously self-conscious and trying to hide it, but honestly Richie was still caught up on a particular pronoun.

“You were _married_?” Richie asked slowly. Eddie looked at him like he was crazy.

“Yes, dipshit. In order to be divorced you have to initially be married.” Eddie snapped.

“And it was… to a woman?” Richie managed, distantly realizing he was being an asshole but unable to stop.

“Yes, you fucking _asshole_.” Eddie breathed, sounding exhausted.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just thought-”

“Yes, you thought right,” Eddie cut him off, angrily, “But what took you 28 seconds to figure out took me about 28 years so. Sorry for being slow on the uptake. Where were you 7 years ago, it would’ve been real helpful information to have then. Anyway, that’s the reason I’m now single and no longer living in Brentwood but in a decent but suffocating apartment that has no washer or dryer, in the city, with my best friend from high school. I was too gay to keep up having a wife.”

Eddie sighed loudly and banged his head back against the machines behind him in defeat. Richie immediately felt guilty for his big mouth.

“I’m sorry, Eds.” Richie admitted and the guy cracked one eye open, checking to see if Richie was being serious. He was.

“Don’t be,” Eddie managed, smiling as much as he could manage, “I know it’s for the best, I just…”

Richie fidgeted for a second before he held out one of his headphones with a small, sweet smile, “We don’t have to talk about it anymore, if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks.” Eddie said after a long moment, accepting the headphone tentatively. He slipped it in his ear, moving closer to Richie so the cord would reach. When Richie started the first song, _I’m Still Standing_ by Elton John, Eddie grinned and rolled his eyes, “Perfect.” He sighed, closing his eyes and listening.

###

There was a long table in the middle of the rows of machines. It was meant for people to be folding their clothes on, but since no one else was really in the laundromat at that moment, Richie and Eddie had commandeered more than their section of the table, sitting cross-legged on top. They’d already moved Eddie’s clothes out of the washer and into the dryer, and now were waiting out their last timer. They’d been talking the whole time while Richie’s music played, learning where the other was from, where they went to college, what they majored in, how many siblings they had, what their alcohol of weakness was, what their go-to karaoke song was, etc. etc. Eddie was so easy to talk to.

Eventually, they also started playing hand games, since Richie’s headphones kept them in close enough proximity that they had to find some way to occupy their hands that didn’t look awkward. They’d started with arm wrestling and then moved on to thumb wars and now they were playing Red Hands. And Eddie was fucking fast.

“Goddamn it, Eddie,” Richie cried out, shaking the sting out of his hands as Eddie laughed triumphantly.

“You’re just too slow, Tozier.” Eddie crowed, leaning forward to gently slap Richie’s cheek condescendingly. Richie groaned and pushed him back, but his hand lingered on his wrist, pushing softly over the pulse point as he pulled his hand away. Eddie’s laughter faded off, but he kept smiling at Richie, soft and happy.

“One more round?” he asked after a long moment and Richie shook his head. “Oh come on, I’ll even be on top this time. You want have to be slapped at all.” Eddie offered and Richie’s head buzzed with all the innuendos in that sentence, not even sure where to start.

“Nah, for the first time in my life I think I can say I’d be awful at this on the top _or_ the bottom. And I think my hand is starting to blister.” Richie said, turning his hand over to inspect the redness. Eddie scoffed, playing cool even as he eyed the skin too, double checking.

“Don’t be dramatic.” He said, but he pulled the hand closer. Then, when he seemed satisfied that the skin held up, he looked up at Richie with those big brown eyes and kissed his knuckles once, oh so gently, “There. All better.”

“Um, am I interrupting something?” Mike asked, ruining what was a VERY nice moment. Richie turned and glared at Mike as Eddie pulled back and slipped off the counter.

“Yes. You are.” Richie deadpanned and Mike just smiled. He was holding the giant basket of folded clothes, empty bags slung over his shoulder.

“Sorry. I was just coming over to let you know I folded all the clothes with absolutely none of your help. I’m now on my way out. You coming?” he asked. Richie almost felt guilty, but Bill was just behind Mike’s shoulder, seemingly waiting for him still so the guilt was quick to soothe. Mike didn’t seem actually mad AND he had a cute boy with him so, they were both fine.

“Um, I think I’ll stay,” Richie said, looking to Eddie for validation. The guy just shrugged, but he was smiling a little and Richie took that as a positive, “Yeah, Eddie Spaghetti’s clothes come out of the dryer soon and I want to make sure to help him fold. It’s the most important part of the process, you know? Can’t ditch out on him for that.”

“Yeah,” Mike glared, “That would be a real dick move.” His face seemed impassive, but Richie could see he was about to smile.

“Exactly.” Richie grinned widely and Mike rolled his eyes.

“I’m probably gonna get dinner with Bill after I drop these off, so I might not be there whenever you get back.” Mike warned and Richie raised his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“Ooooh, okay. Go get it, Mikey-boy.” Richie teased with a wink. Mike shifted his head to look at Eddie pointedly and then looked back at Richie. Mike raised his eyebrows right back.

“You too, Rich. Remember the sock rule, just because we don’t share a room anymore doesn’t mean I don’t wanna be left unaware.” Mike said with a stern pointed finger, before turning to Eddie with a bright smile, “Nice to meet you, by the way, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Nice to- um, nice to meet you too.” Eddie managed, blushing a little at Mike’s implication. Cute cute cute.

Mike walked away with a chuckle, falling into step with Bill and Georgie as they walked out, both throwing Richie a wave as they left. Richie watched them go for a second, smiling at the way Mike and Bill walked so close, bumping into each other and smiling slyly. He shook his head fondly as he turned back around, moving his legs to slide off the table, but when he got to the edge he stopped, because Eddie was staring at him.

“Sooo,” Eddie drawled and Richie raised his eyebrows in confusion, “That was Mike.”

“That was Mike.” Richie confirmed, slightly nervous and watching closely as Eddie’s hand trailed along the steel surface of the table, moving closer to where Richie was perched.

“The comment about the sock was…” Eddie trailed off and Richie stammered to come up with an excuse.

“OH, that, um that was just a … umm… it was…”

“Exactly what I think it is? Mike assumed you wanna bone me?” Eddie asked, fighting back a smile. Richie sighed and nodded, running one hand through his curls.

“Did he make you uncomfortable?” he asked, “I’m really sorry, like I said, we’ve been friends for so long and …we just kinda talk like that and it’s not-”

“It’s okay, Rich. I’m not uncomfortable.” Eddie assured him. He leaned his hip against the table and stared up at Richie (he really was short, it was so cute oh my _God_).

“No? Then why…” Eddie cleared his throat and shrugged once. Then he took a deep breath and moved to stand in between Richie’s legs, both hands on Richie’s thighs to spread them open. Richie gasped softly as Eddie moved in as close as he could, the top of his head just coming to the bottom of Richie’s chin.

“It’s probably because I grew up… super closeted, but I’ve formed this habit of telling myself that anytime a guy flirts with me, it’s just… my imagination. Or their personality. They’re never _actually_ into me but… _Mike noticing_-”

“Made it hard to ignore how much I actually like you?” Richie filled in the blank and Eddie grinned, nodding.

“Yeah. So, no, it didn’t make me uncomfortable, surprisingly. It actually made me want to kiss you.” Eddie admitted, and he’d tilted his head up so his lips were _so close_. Richie could just lean in, but of course-

“I fully support you pursuing that want.” Richie _had_ to speak first as he moved his hands to Eddie’s hips, and Eddie hummed his agreement, moving to close the gap and then-

**BEEEEP.**

Eddie flinched back at the sound of their dryers going off, hands tightening on Richie’s thighs instinctively before letting go. He chuckled once and went to move back but Richie made a noise of disapproval, not loosening his grip on Eddie’s hips.

“Oh _hell_ no am I getting cock-blocked by a fucking dryer.” Richie muttered, making Eddie laugh as Richie moved one hand up to his chin, guiding their lips together quickly but gently. They were both still laughing when their lips met, so it was awkward at first, but also _perfect_. And it quickly sunk into something easier, softer, and wetter. Richie wrapped his arms tightly around Eddie, wanting to lose himself completely in this man he literally _just met_. It was intoxicating.

Eventually they pulled back, after an indeterminate amount of time, and Eddie was positively glowing, eyes bright and lips slightly wet still. Richie swooned.

“That was-” Richie started, searching for the words, but Eddie didn’t let him finish.

“Wanna get a drink with me sometime?” Eddie asked and Richie grinned.

“_Yes please_.” God he loved this laundromat.

**Author's Note:**

> leave me a comment pls ilysm
> 
> [I am on tumblr if you wanna say hi](https://themightychipmunk.tumblr.com/)


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